M
Mellow-
Guest
For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day
and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take
it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you
don't know.
I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone
call I had forgotten to make. I found the number,
and dialed it. A man answered saying, "Hello?" I
politely said, "Could I please
speak with Robin Carter?" Suddenly, the phone was
slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone
could be so rude. I tracked down Robin's correct
number, and called her. (I had transposed the last two
digits of her phone number). After hanging up with her,
I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the
same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an
asshole!" And hung up. I wrote his number down, with
the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk
drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills
or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and
yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my
therapeutic 'asshole' calling would have to stop. So, I
called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith
from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if
you're familiar with the caller ID program?" he
yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly
called him back and said, "That's because you're an
asshole!"
So, one day I was at the store, getting ready to
pull into a parking spot. Some boy in a black BMW
flipped me offand pulled into the spot I had patiently waiting
for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting
for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For
Sale" sign in his car window, so I wrote down his
number. A couple of days later, right after calling the
first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I
thought I had better call the BMW asshole too. I dialed
and someone said, "Hello?" I said, "Is this the man
with the black BMW for sale?" "Yes it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow
house and the car is parked right out front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added
his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a
problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several
months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as
it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called
Asshole #1. "Hello"
"You're an asshole!" (but I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at! 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow
house with my black Beemer parked in front.
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had
better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called asshole # 2:
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello Asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm
coming over right now."
Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police,
saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and I
was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then, I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on
West 34th Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th St.
There, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of
6 squad cars, a police helicopter and news crew.
Now, I feel better.
and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take
it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you
don't know.
I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone
call I had forgotten to make. I found the number,
and dialed it. A man answered saying, "Hello?" I
politely said, "Could I please
speak with Robin Carter?" Suddenly, the phone was
slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone
could be so rude. I tracked down Robin's correct
number, and called her. (I had transposed the last two
digits of her phone number). After hanging up with her,
I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the
same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an
asshole!" And hung up. I wrote his number down, with
the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk
drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills
or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and
yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my
therapeutic 'asshole' calling would have to stop. So, I
called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith
from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if
you're familiar with the caller ID program?" he
yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly
called him back and said, "That's because you're an
asshole!"
So, one day I was at the store, getting ready to
pull into a parking spot. Some boy in a black BMW
flipped me offand pulled into the spot I had patiently waiting
for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting
for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For
Sale" sign in his car window, so I wrote down his
number. A couple of days later, right after calling the
first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I
thought I had better call the BMW asshole too. I dialed
and someone said, "Hello?" I said, "Is this the man
with the black BMW for sale?" "Yes it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow
house and the car is parked right out front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added
his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a
problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several
months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as
it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called
Asshole #1. "Hello"
"You're an asshole!" (but I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at! 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow
house with my black Beemer parked in front.
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had
better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called asshole # 2:
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello Asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm
coming over right now."
Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police,
saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and I
was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then, I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on
West 34th Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th St.
There, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of
6 squad cars, a police helicopter and news crew.
Now, I feel better.
